Just A-Walking Down the Street

I'm not sure which was more unfortunate - waking up at 9 a.m. or finding that it was 19 degrees outside.

I put off walking till it got to 20 degrees and then set out for the Fan, seeing very few people out braving the cold until I ran into a theater director also out and about on a cold morning.

Not long after, I was spotted by a man with a beagle who pointed at me and said, "I'd know that walk anywhere!"

How I hadn't recognized the familiar form of a handsome, favorite server is beyond me, although admittedly, we were both bundled to the max.

But my walk, really?

Back at home I found a delightful e-mail awaiting me.

Hey, girl, can you come play at lunchtime? 12:00 if possible. I need my Karen fix.

So there were some benefits to getting up early after all.

He wanted to check out Society down in the Slip, having been intrigued by their full page ad in Style Weekly.

Me, I just wanted someplace warm with food.

We were seated at a table facing the window on Cary Street so at least seeing sun through the glass gave the illusion of warmth.

My friend, long the expert on nightlife, looked around the dining room and found it lacking. "It looks like a nightclub from the '80s," he said, unimpressed by the purple, black and gold decor.

Considering how much time he spent in clubs then, he would know.

We began with panko-crusted scallop croquettes over smoked paprika aioli and a balsamic reduction and were both impressed with the meaty chunks of creamy scallop in the two croquettes.

Part of our reason for meeting up was to share stories from our recent trips, his to D.C. and mine to Florida, so I heard about $18 martinis and $700 hotel rooms and he got to hear about dog racing and gator tail bites.

My biggest laugh came when he told me that he and a coworker always go out for pedicures as their Christmas present to each other. And while I love a pedicure, I was only now learning that he did, too.

"Are you kidding, darling?" he asked rhetorically. "My feet look like a prehistoric animal's."

I admire a man with Hobbit-looking feet willing to address it, I have to admit.

Despite the club-like appearance, the music was safe to the point of revulsion, relying on non-stop Jack Johnson and Dave Matthews songs to lull the lunching crowd into complete aural boredom.

Okay, maybe that's just me.

My sandwich was the catch of the day, grouper, and came grilled with garlic aioli, lettuce, tomato, onion on a crusty roll and showed the same deft touch with seafood that the croquette had.

The thick piece of fish tasted right-off-the-boat fresh and I couldn't have been more impressed with it. Friend was just as happy with his Reuben, although I tend to think that's easier to pull off than a stellar fish sandwich.

We talked about down time and he bragged about having spent seven hours on the couch New Year's day watching old movies with his boyfriend. I told him of a similar memory of spending five hours on a couch in Bermuda watching old movies the day before New Year's eve, but only after going out to procure popcorn and candy first.

He felt like his story topped mine because of the two extra hours, while I thought mine won because of snackage.

Our server interrupted to see if we needed anything and dessert seemed like the best idea, so she scurried to the kitchen, returning with a scrap of paper with the two choices written out, although clearly not phonetically.

"We have powdered sugar beg-nets," she said and I explained that she might want to pronounce beignets differently. The other choice was a semi-fredo and given the weather, we opted for the warm option.

They were more like beignet nuggets than true beignets, but with a caramel sauce for dipping, quite a nice finish to our meal.

Maybe it was that Friend was having wine with lunch, but at one point, he took my hand and told me he'd missed seeing me.

It had only been a month, but he said it felt like longer since I'd been out of town and unavailable even if he'd had time to get together, which he hadn't.

But I guess when you're jonesing for a fix, you're not thinking logically.